‘Good things come to those who book flights’ – Anon
I’m starting to gather up my belongings and my wits (the latter distinctly more challenging) to prepare for another trip south of the equator where I shall be until August.
I’ll be sad to leave the green fields just as the Hawthorn is blooming, the cow parsley/Queen Anne’s Lace is bobbing in the hedgerows and the fields are looking increasingly lush and inviting. South Africa is emerging from autumn into winter so there’ll be cyclical patterns of grey and rain there which the reservoirs will welcome, and bright sunny days with temperatures that match, and often top, an English summer.
I had expected my time back here to be be jammed with writing assignments; hours spent engrossed in creativity without heeding the clock. In reality it’s been rather different, complicated by another recent encounter with gravity which, frankly, is becoming rather boring.
Yes, once again I’ve explored the mayhem of our A & E facilities courtesy of the NHS, where I found loads of people working incredibly hard under difficult conditions. My own wait, though billed as 4–5 hours was nearer 3 which included examination, X-ray and fitting with that all too familiar boot complemented by crutches. How the staff keep track of everyone I don’t know but the registrar who saw me told me I was fortunate not to have been in the day before when the waiting time was ten hours. Good grief! A good book makes everything easier but that would require a whole series.
A consistent dose of pain killers is helping and, thanks to my accumulated collection of medical paraphernalia, I’ve been able to compare and contrast an NHS moon boot with a South African one. The latter is a clear winner thanks to pump up bladders which hold the foot securely within the loving grasp of fabric and velcro fastenings. I’m so glad I kept it! Alas, in the standard issue NHS boot my foot was sliding around with barely any support at all. I imagine that funding is the outstanding contributory factor in what’s available here and while I love our whole ‘free at the point of delivery’ system, the cracks are widening rapidly.
I’ve augmented the treatment with anti-inflammatory patches and elasticated ankle supports that I purchased the last but one time I succumbed to gravity in a similar way. Basically, it’s a case of ‘Keep Calm and Cary On.’ The alternative is unhelpful.
So, although I have completed a few assignments in the writing department, I’ve actually been honing my juggling skills. Not literally, you understand. The circus must wait.
Most of my acrobatics has involved booking workmen to ensure my mum is safe in her house, and then re-booking them when they fail to turn up. (Note to self: never book anyone for a Friday – ever – especially not in the afternoon when they think the weekend is starting without them.) Discussions on possibilities and prices have ensued and progress has been made. She now has the cleanest oven in the village and the securing of the stair carpet has helped me in my compromised state of having to ascend on my knees and descend on my backside.
Every time I leave, Mum qualifies looking forward to seeing me back with the addendum that she, ‘might have gone to Glory by then.’ One of these days, that may turn out to be true, but until then we all press on. She’s a recognisable figure for the neighbours as she potters up the hill to Waitrose several times a week pushing her trolley. They’re now collectively holding their breath when they see her come back down the hill again (legs remarkably speedy for someone in their nineties), wondering whether the trolley has engaged with gravity sufficiently to have a life of it’s own. What was that formula we learnt in school about mass and velocity? I forget. The question remains, will she make the turning into the drive, or will the momentum hurtle her to the bottom of the hill from whence she will require rescue?
It looks like I will finally have both time and space to re-engage with some serious writing back in Cape Town. I go, armed with a list, sad to miss the best part of the year here, but eager to see the ocean again amongst the plethora of responsibilities awaiting our combined attention. Let’s hope there’s enough jet fuel available by August to get me back here again.
Have a wonderful summer!
[Images: my own and Pixabay]
dancingthroughchaos 